


Idiot romances (SniperSpy)

by aimasup



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Blood, Canon-Typical Violence, Fluff, Humor, Implied Heavy/Medic - Freeform, Implied Smut, M/M, engineer scout and medic are just kinda mentioned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-26
Updated: 2019-04-26
Packaged: 2020-02-04 15:46:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18607603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aimasup/pseuds/aimasup
Summary: 5 times Spy took the reins (as always) and 1 time Sniper turned the tables on him.Comments are appreciated.





	Idiot romances (SniperSpy)

**1.**

A strangled cry of agony wrenched its way out of the enemy Scout’s throat, his whole body jerking forward, staggering in shock before he finally hit the hard-baked dirt from an unexpected explosion of critical pain in his back.

Spy still had some lingering smoke from dropping his earlier disguise. He had driven his knife into the enemy’s back and pulled it back out quickly, familiarity helping him to yank out the deeply-driven blade in flesh. Out of habit more than anything else, he brushed the cuffs of his suit, even though he knew that it would do nothing for the fact that blood, dust, dirt and other things were already a normal part of the job.

 _“Get to the control point!”_ the Administrator’s voice echoed over the battlefield. _Merde,_ they were already two briefcases behind.

Spy immediately took off in the direction of where he last recalled a med-pack was, a nasty burn on his right leg needing tending to. It was fortunately put out by a random spray of blood, courtesy of a suspicious battle Medic, but unfortunately had only added to the disgusting charred ruins of his expensive wear. A trained man like him could take the pain, but getting the effects looked at would only be logical.

As he was jogging through the chaos (not so fast as to run into a rain of rockets or grenades or bullets when distracted), he swept out his disguise kit, selecting a cigarette, his mind flipping between all nine potential classes to work as. A quick thought process and good reflexes were necessary in the high adrenaline of battle.

Speaking of which, that rough battle screaming that was steadily growing did not sound good.

He pivoted just in time to be startled by the enemy Soldier lunging at him out of nowhere with a shovel, arms prepared to deliver the blow. Said Soldier was stopped abruptly, inches away from Spy, his entire body jerking a bit before falling sideways like a dropped doll on the ground. A burst of blood and a familiar gunshot through his head was a telltale sign of who did the deed.

Spy turned his head up to the Sniper’s nest, only a few meters away from where he stood. The awful glare of the sun was absent today, replaced by graying clouds, which meant that he didn’t have to squint. 

_Hm._ He allowed a small smile. Sniper was looking through his scope now, meaning that he could see Spy perfectly, up-close. That bushman was just doing his job, sure, but now that Sniper was giving him a ‘peace-out’ sign of acknowledgement, Spy couldn’t let the chance slip away.

Spy calmly adjusted his lapels, giving Sniper a nod of gratitude. Then he turned to walk away, as if it was casual, coyly taking the cigarette out of his mouth, dangling it between his fingers and looking over his shoulder with half-lidded eyes. A catty smile added to the absolutely flirtatious look the bastard was giving the Sniper. The pose only lasted a couple seconds, but he knew that the bushman had seen all of it.

Sniper stuttered. A deep, crimson blush hugged his entire face and went down to his neck, and he practically felt steam come off of himself. He squeezed his hand on his cheek in an attempt to stop acting like a schoolgirl over a crush.

“Bloody spies…” he grumbled.  
_____________________________________________________________

**2.**

Sniper found himself back in Spy’s arms for the umpteenth time that morning. He grumbled half-heartedly. “Piss.”

Spy idly played with the marksman’s hair. “Don’t give me that, bushman. You want to be here and you know it.”

“We’ve got to start the day, spook.”

“Not yet we don’t. It’s a ceasefire, non?”

Sniper grumbled again, snuggling even further into the covers and into body warmth. Damn it, he didn’t use to be this touchy-feely. Maybe they should go back to being ‘friends with benefits’. Was a lot less complicated than actually being in love. 

…Spy was really warm, though.

The blizzard outside their current base roared on as nothing more than white noise in the background. The weather at Coldfront was certainly interesting. It really didn’t care which time of day it was to drop a storm over human’s heads and break the calm of the day. 

A surprise blizzard was welcomed anytime, actually, because it usually got so bad that they had to call off fighting. And eventually, the anger of the withdrawal from bloodshed of the enemy team would slowly give way to the realization that it was essentially a day or three off. In shitty weather, sure, but it was better than fighting in it.

Sniper groaned, hearing a faint bugle-playing Soldier down the hallway. “ ‘s breakfast time, spook. Let me go.”

“Oh, I will.”

_“Now.”_

“Really?”

“Yes, you wanker.”

“Hm. Okay. What would be the reason that I would do that?”

“So I can get out and be bloody productive for the first time this week!”

“So be it.”

Some rustling could be heard as they shifted respectively.

“Ah bugger. It’s cold.”

Spy smiled and gave Sniper’s forehead a small kiss after the marksman dove back into bed, muttering curses under Spy’s arms.  
_____________________________________________________________

**3.**

Spy was really agitated. Not only was the lock unwilling to cooperate with his clothes-seam-and-pin trick, but he also really despised the ugly shade of orange that all the inmates had to be clad in.

Sniper sat at the far end of the cell, having a bit of an existential crisis and rethinking all life choices. Mumbling something about his parents. Understandable, since this was probably his first time in jail. Spy rolled his eyes. He would rather let the staring brutes in the cell across the corridor have their way with him than have anyone know that Spy was willing to do anything to make Sniper feel better. 

Oh well. He’s been in worse situations. A sixteen years sentence in regular prison wasn’t the worst thing that happened to him.

Spy fumbled a bit more with the lock, then realized that his lock-pick was in an inadequate shape to begin with, and that’s why it didn’t work. 

“Any luck, spook?”

Ah, so the bushman was done with his depressive episode. That was fairly quick, considering that it was partially his fault that they were in there in the first place. Nothing a quick apology cuddle in the bathrooms couldn’t fix, and they were mercenaries. Someone has to fuck up every now and then. It was only natural of them.

 _"Non,_ bushman. My lock-pick has been damaged since we were thrown into the truck, I think. Court is not particularly kind to people with murky records such as us.”

Sniper made a noise of unhappiness. “Is there really no other way? We’ve a contract due next week. And I don’t think the old lady’s gonna be too happy, findin’ out about this.”

“Well I could always get a cluster of hair and harden it with blood to make a sharp new pick, but I genuinely hope it doesn’t come to that.”

“What are you…” Sniper shook his head. “Have you been in a situation like that before?”

“……once or twice.”

Sniper thought about it. “Eh, can’t be that bad if it works.”

“You really are a man of many wonders, you disgusting camper. Why do I love you?”

“Probably because of what I do best. “

“That really depends. But now you’ve insulted my skills, I’m feeling bored, my pick’s broken, and we will be alone for a few days, now that I think about it.”

“Wh – “

For some reason, the day went by exceedingly smoothly, with only two fights breaking out in the prison, one in the cafeteria and one in the yard, and neither of them involved the two assassins. 

Actually that wasn’t really a wonder. The last bathroom stall to the left was occupied for quite a while.  
_____________________________________________________________

**4.**

This was fine. This was –

“Anything you’d like, _mon amor?”_

This was not fine. Sniper stared down at the menu as if it were written in ancient hieroglyphics. “I’d like to understand just what this thing is saying.”

Spy exhaled loudly through his nose. “You should at least understand what pasta is, should you not?”

Instead of answering, Sniper squinted around the dimly lit room. The floor was carpeted and there were copies of famous paintings hung around the walls. A saxophone-centered jazz piece softly played over the speakers. Apparently his boyfriend thought that taking them to a four-star Italian restaurant instead of a five-star Parisian hotel cafeteria was considered ‘not too fancy’.

 _Well guess what, spook, your bushman doesn’t have his standards stuck in the stars like you do,_ Sniper thought. Things like dress codes and chandeliers always struck him as uptight. 

“Fine, I guess I’ll get…” Sniper turned his head back to the menu. “This.” He leaned over the table to show Spy what he was pointing at. Spy stopped tenting his fingers and read it.

“A seafood aglio e olio? Not a bad choice at all.”

Spy got a few words across to the waiter that stood by their booth. After the waiter left, Spy went back to tenting his fingers and listening to the music, waiting for a topic of small talk to come to mind. Sniper leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms.

“So I didn’t know your Italian was choppy.”

“Well, I never had a lot of missions in Italy. I had to be fluent in English and German first, at the time.”

“I’m just saying, you’re always talking about how perfectly talented you are.”

“I still know more languages than you do.”

“……I appreciate the effort you put into English, spook.”

Spy put his hands down, then lifted one to support his chin as he leaned forward a little. “Hmm…just like you appreciate me stealing Engineer’s teleporter network to bring us here, _amor?”_

Sniper crossed his arms tighter. The whole time they had been here, he had done nothing but grumble about the place, but Spy always knew the effect that he had over him.

“…I guess it’s pretty romantic.” He finally muttered.

He attempted to bury his face in his chest just to hide his mad blush as Spy, his perfect, gorgeous snake of a lover, sitting across him, started chuckling.  
_____________________________________________________________

**5.**

Spy watched as Sniper coughed again. “ ‘m fine, spook…”

 _“Non,_ you are not. Now shut your germ-ridden mouth and lie down.”

Sniper tried once again to push himself out of the luxurious sheets, but Spy, sitting at his own bed’s side, held him back down. Thank god it was a task-free weekend. Spy couldn’t dare imagine what would happen to Sniper if he tried going to work like this. 

Both of them were stubborn, but in this scenario they were stubborn in their own ways. Sniper finally surrendered, mostly due to his flu-induced state, and crossed his arms, sinking back into the multiple pillows that Spy had brought him despite Sniper’s protests.

Once he was settled, Spy brought out a tray of medicine, water, soup and toast. Sniper groaned, putting a hand to his pale face. “You can’t mother me like this. You’re not Engineer, or my mum, and I’m not a baby.”

Spy shot back. “You’re not a superhuman, either.”

Sniper went quiet. Spy realized that statement came out completely wrong and deeply regretted ever saying it. He watched as Sniper’s shoulders tensed up, jaw setting. He averted his eyes and refused to look at Spy. 

Spy didn’t know what else to do. He opened his mouth, then closed it again. He had never been much of a sentimental. Still, he should have kept his tongue better. As a spy, his forte was always prodding into other’s secrets and knowing what made them tick.

However, what he said didn’t have any real meaning behind it. He was just stating that Sniper couldn’t be a perfect working robot all the time, immune to sickness and other humanly things. He was sure that Sniper thought that he was abusing his position.

Spy tried to keep his stoic look. It kept softening. “…but you’re not weak at all for being sick.”

Sniper still didn’t say anything, but he did hold eye contact again.

“You’re…far from it. No one who’s proclaimed themselves the so-called perfect human being over there has been insane enough to take this sort of job, but you’re two years in and have braved much more than them. I don’t think it matters at all that you don’t match up to what others expect.”

He had Sniper’s full attention now.

“I’m…I am…somehow not feeling well with the effect that that jab earlier had on you. So I hope you can…try to forget about that unintentional mishap.”

Spy waited. Sniper was still staring at him with an indecipherable look. He waited for Sniper to turn over and ignore him. He waited for the sad chuckle over how he couldn’t even manage a proper apology to the one he cared about most. He waited for the second he would have to pull the calm, collected bastard façade back on and return to business once their relationship was declared over in that very moment.

Then, Sniper smirked and shook his head. “Jesus, spook. Didn’t know you actually cared that much.”

Spy let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. “I’m just making a point.” 

Sniper shrugged, a neutral gesture, one that didn’t really hold any negative or positive emotion. “Well don’t worry about it. ‘s not the first time I’ve heard something like that. Heard worse, even.”

Spy nodded while taking up the bowl of still hot soup, hands protected by expensive gloves, glad that he didn’t have his jacket on to worry about. “Yes, I’m glad you don’t hate me forever.” He really was glad. Relieved, even.

“I’m not that sensitive! And what are you doing?”

“Isn’t it obvious? I’m going to feed you.”

“I’m still not that sensitive. An adult like myself would very much prefer your beaut’ of a body in bed, with me, and – “

“Shut up and eat, bushman. I’m a professional. Professionals have standards.”

“That’s my line!”  
_____________________________________________________________

**-And that one time for Sniper.-**

Sniper waited upon the lavish furniture. The warm glow of the fireplace dimly illuminated the dark room. The expensive alcohol and the cheap beer sat on the stolen oak table, casting shadows that joined the others around the space. 

Spy’s smoking room was always a sore thumb among everyone else’s quarters. Medic barely used his, and it was connected to the infirmary, as was Engineer’s to his workplace. The both of them would usually be found sleeping over a desk, a project or the floor if it was bad enough. Everyone else’s rooms had a few of their belongings and some sentimental trinkets, as well as a sort of personal touch, but other than that they were just rooms.

Sniper glared around the room he was in. He didn’t know why he chose someone who had the habit of making a show out of the smallest things. And not in Scout’s way. This fancy mansion of a personal room in a military base made his camper van feel like a broom closet. He silently apologized to the van after that thought immediately. Poor girl didn’t deserve to be upstaged.

Finally, Spy emerged from a door well-hidden by shadows at the far wall. He was a bit disheveled and didn’t have his jacket on. A closed novel was held in his hand, one page bookmarked by his index finger. Sniper knew from personal experience that that door lead to Spy’s actual room.

His mask was still on, though. That was fine. For the plan that Sniper had tonight, it would only be better that he could see that it was his Spy that was giving the reaction. Spy paused, eyes narrowing at the sight of Sniper in his armchair. 

“If you were anyone else, I would’ve thrown you out after I took care of your genitals forever with my bluntest knife. Not that I would usually resort to such raunchy methods, but that chair is seamless, imported Italian leather, and it’s mine, and you’re sitting in it.”

Sniper snorted. “Nah, spook. I think your ‘relaxing nights’ with me wouldn’t like it very much if you did.” Damn, he didn’t even know that this chair was Spy’s.

Spy pretended not to hear him. “I see you’ve helped yourself as well.” He nodded his head towards the god-awful whiskey on his table. That was only to be taken out when he needed a night of forgetting.

Sniper shrugged. “ ‘ey, I got you your fancy wine, so you’re welcome.” 

Spy sighed. “Why are you here, mon amor? It’s not as if I wouldn’t want you out of my chair this instant, but I do suppose that your being here isn’t entirely unwelcomed. Looking for some entertainment, perhaps?”

Sniper was silent at that. His posture was incredibly relaxed, back slouched against the back rest of the plush chair, arms slung over the armrests, thighs slightly apart. He looked like some sort of over-privileged brat from a particularly rich neighborhood.

Silence, except for the occasional crackle from the fireplace. There was no tension; in fact everything was pretty casual. Sniper could see Spy shift his weight onto one hip like an impatient dame waiting for her husband to fess up. The spook’s arms were crossed and he had his usual condescending, annoyed expression that was only slightly softened by his lover’s presence.

Well, he was going to make that look disappear.

Sniper got up and crossed the room in seconds with long steps. The taller man pressed close to Spy, one hand roughly grabbing his upper left arm, the other on his lower waist. He bent down and growled out:

_“Je suis la pour toi, mon amour. “_

It all happened in only a number of seconds. The mix of confusion and amazement on Spy’s face was definitely worth all those studying nights. No one else on the team knew French, and this was supposed to be a secret. However, Medic did have some great dictionaries that he almost never used, so he was gracious enough to lend him a few. And some extra tips as a fellow, understanding man in a relationship.

From the looks of it, this was working. He should really let Medic sew him some new kidneys as a ‘thank you’ for the advice.

Spy was red all over the face and speechless. _“Q-quoi?”_

Sniper didn’t understand that one. He didn’t bother to learn the whole language; he only spared the time to memorize a few select phrases and learn the pronunciation. He just pulled Spy closer and leaned in further and continued.

_“Tue s a moi. Mon espion. J’ai donc decide de vous rendre visite. “_

That bit was kind of stressful, but Sniper hoped the pronunciation sufficed. He had lowered his voice to that dangerous, baritone rumble he took out on the battlefield, the kind he’d use when he really felt in the zone or particularly pissed off.

 _That should set the spook off,_ he thought, _and cover up my bloody butchering of his language._

Lord above, he was right. Spy was visibly trembling a little, looking as if he was going to pass out. It was clear that the reasons weren’t anything bad. Sniper hoped that he was in one of those states when he forgot English around the steamy moments. Those were always the best.

_“Tireur d’elite…”_

Sniper gave a wolfish grin and squeezed Spy’s arm. This was still worth it.

_"Et tu seras un bon garçon ce soir ... tu ne veux pas? “_

The slow yet hurried nod he got in return secured victory. It was going to be one of those nights.

**Author's Note:**

> Who knows, after that Cinderella AU with Soldier x Demo I might just make a Beauty and the Beast AU with this ship


End file.
